


Christening

by tosca1390



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:11:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Engineers are the worst patients, and Gaila, she was <i>the</i> worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christening

*

Leonard McCoy had always thought doctors made the worst patients. In dealing with his father, rest his soul, and other doctors coming to his practice, he thought he knew. He’d thought he’d handled the worst.

Then, he’d met Jim Kirk, and he thought _stubborn idiot-geniuses from Iowa_ made the worst patients. Jim had yet to meet something he wasn’t allergic to, or a venereal disease he didn’t become best friends with, or a huge bulky pro-fighter he didn’t see the need not to brawl with, and McCoy had thought that had prepared him for just about everything.

Then, he’d gotten on the _Enterprise_ , and he knew he was wrong on both counts. 

_Engineers_ made the worst patients. 

It was like they _asked_ for deadly injuries, with the amount of time all of them spent in McCoy’s sickbay. If it wasn’t Keenser with a broken… whatever, then it was Scotty with the worst plasma burns McCoy had ever seen (and on skin that wouldn’t normally be engaged in interaction with plasma…which McCoy didn’t want to think about). 

Gaila, though. She was the worst. Mostly because not only did she have such enthusiasm for the work that she’d come in for treatment and blithely ignore his orders not to go back to work, but every time she was around, McCoy was always stuck in a frustrating daze of half-arousal, half-pissed-off concern. 

Goddamn pheromones. 

Christine thoroughly enjoyed this, because apparently all the women ever in his life were hell-bent on either torturing him, or enjoying said torture.

“Ask her out, Leonard,” she said with a wink after their latest encounter, smiling slyly. 

“I want to fire you,” he said in return, before hurrying into his office to breathe the free, clean air, trying to settle down, _goddamnit_.

“A date wouldn’t kill you!” she called just as he closed the door.

_It would, though_ , he thought glumly. At this point, his posturing and attitude on relationships had led him to a fairly celibate lifestyle, apart for a few failed dates at the Academy (all Jim’s fault, by the way), and he had been… not content, but used to it. Now, he was all out of sorts, and it was unsettling.

*

Of course, Jim enjoyed this more than anyone, because he was a _prick_ , the stupid kid. 

“She’s great in bed, Bones. You totally should do it,” Jim said one day as they were eating in the mess, his eyes trained on Gaila as she ate with Keenser and Uhura.

McCoy kept his eyes on his dinner, as mushy and unappetizing as it was, because just the idea of watching Gaila move her mouth in misconstrued inappropriateness riled him up. “It’s just pheromones,” he muttered, glaring at Jim. 

Laughing, Jim slapped him on the shoulder, eyes bright and gleaming like the goddamn devil he was. “So what? She’s intelligent, she’s hot as fuck, and then we’ll get to compare notes! It’s like a dream come true.”

“Damnit, Jim! You’re making this impossible,” McCoy all-but-snarled, gripping his fork with white knuckles. 

“I’m trying to get you laid. I’m honor-bound, as your best friend,” Jim replied easily, unperturbed by McCoy’s temper after four years of the oddest friendship in Starfleet history, second only to the epic tale of Kirk and Spock. “I tried, god knows I tried at the Academy, but you are your own biggest cockblock.”

“If you don’t stop all this immediately, I will make sure you get hyposprays ten times a day for the rest of your goddamn life, I swear,” McCoy warned, stabbing at his sort-of steak.

Jim had the nerve to clap his arm again, grinning like the infant he sometimes was. “Bones, she’s looking over! Smile at her.”

“No,” McCoy muttered.

“I know you have the muscles for it. I could order you, as Captain.”

McCoy kicked him in the shin. “And then I’ll flay you alive. What are you, five years old?”

Hissing through his teeth, Jim pouted. “Whatever. Just tell me all about it when it happens. Especially if it’s in sickbay! Always wanted to christen that place myself, but it _is_ your spot—“

Jim’s laughter at the purple-red color McCoy’s face became could be heard throughout the deck.

*

Thankfully, Gaila avoided injury for a while after that, leaving McCoy both thankful to remain clear-headed, and almost longing for some sort of incursion. This made him incredibly cranky, because he was Leonard McCoy, he didn’t _long_ for things! Space had made him soft. That was all it was to it. 

Then, the Klingons attacked, and of course, Engineering was hit, and _of course_ , the only serious injury was to a certain Orion girl, and it was a doozy.

Being that engineers were fool-hardy and moronic, she didn’t come up until hours after the attack, when McCoy was exhausted and alone; he’d let Christine and M’Benga go once all of the serious injuries were taken care of, and spent the time in his office putting in the necessary adjustments to injured personnel’s medical files. He was so focused that he didn’t even hear anyone come in, which made her entrance all the more awkward. 

“Doctor?”

McCoy nearly jumped out of his seat, PADD clattering to his desk. Gaila stood in the open doorway to his office, hair free and loose around her shoulders, mouth pursed. She held her left arm cradled to her chest, but looked otherwise unharmed. Actually, she looked quite beautiful, green and bright in the sterile office. 

_Goddamn pheromones_ , he cursed as he straightened himself up. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” he asked, trying to breathe in as little as possible. 

“We had an incident, that is all,” she said in her husky voice, revealing her arm to him. 

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, getting to his feet and forgetting all about proximity as he took her arm in his hands. The skin had burned and singed from the usual brilliant green to an odd, painful turquoise, spreading over her forearm to the delicate skin of her wrist. “What the hell did this?”

She shrugged, white teeth digging into the tender skin of her mouth as he touched her injury. “An odd combination of plasma and other contaminants. It did not affect my work, so I let it be, until everything had calmed.”

“Crazy engineers,” he muttered, setting her down in his chair. “I’ll get the dermal regenerator, you stay there.” 

As he brought in the portable regenerator, along with a hypospray for pain, he noticed the odd tingling in his fingertips, the heat rolling in his gut; he sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep his metaphorical feet on solid ground. “You should have come up sooner,” he said gruffly as he stood over her, running the regenerator over her skin. 

She hissed softly, closing her eyes. “I did not want to be a bother. Especially to you, Doctor.”

“You’re not a bother,” he muttered, the back of his neck flushing as her perfume (or whatever it was) filled his lungs, shooting sparks through his limbs. 

“I feel as if you do not like me,” she said quietly. 

“I like you fine, Gaila,” he said, glancing up at her.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, there was only the whirr of the machine between them; something in McCoy’s gut clenched, the hard ache candied there since Jocelyn finally pressing forth. The office felt too close now, walls closing in as his focus clarified into her, only her, and was this all pheromones? 

Abruptly, the machine finished its cycle and clicked off, leaving just them in the silence, her arm smooth and shiny-healed in his broad doctor’s hand, skin on skin. Their breathing had fallen in tandem; he couldn’t look away from her eyes, her mouth, and all he wanted to do was lift her up on the desk and kiss her until they both couldn’t remember how to breathe—

When the hell did he get so fucking poetic?

“I must get back to work, Doctor,” she said finally. 

“Right, of course,” he mumbled, releasing her arm. “I’ll give you an oral pain reliever, the hypospray would hurt too much, I think,” he continued, avoiding her eyes as he handed her a few pills. “Just keep a loose bandage on it for a night, to help it along.”

Gaila took the gauze and the pills with a nod, a small smile playing at her mouth. “Thank you, Doctor,” she murmured softly before slipping out of his office and leaving him gape-mouthed and half-hard. 

*

“Doctor McCoy, I have a patient for you!” Christine called, sounding a bit too pleased for McCoy’s liking. 

“Can’t you take it?” he called from his office, poking at his PADD and scowling. Two days later, when he focused, he could still smell Gaila in the air, and it pissed him off. 

“Asked specifically for you! And,” she added, coming to the open door, “I’m on lunch.”

He glanced up at her, eyes narrowed at the twinkle in her gaze. “All right. I’ll be out in a minute,” he muttered, saving his work and standing up with a back-wrenching stretch. He could hear his spine give and pop, and he frowned. 

Christine went on her merry way, leaving Sickbay completely empty. 

Except for Gaila, who sat cheerily on one of the exam tables, looking perfectly healthy. 

All the hair on McCoy’s body stood up on end, and he swallowed hard. “Lieutenant, nice to see you,” he said finally, voice catching uncomfortably. 

“You as well, Doctor,” she replied with a smile, eyes oddly bright from across the room. 

His toes curled in his shoes, and he thanked himself for the foresight to wear looser uniform pants today. “Is everything all right with your arm?” he asked, approaching her carefully. 

She nodded, holding up the healed limb. “All wonderful. It is this that worries me,” she says, holding up her index finger. 

Stumped, McCoy was forced to come in close, the proximity intoxicating; he glanced over her finger, and his eyebrow hiked up his forehead. “It’s a paper cut,” he said finally.

“Yes,” she said, blinking innocently. “I was reading, and I received this cut.”

“You came here for a paper cut,” he repeated, glancing her over. Her skirt looked shorter than regulation, but perhaps he was imagining things.

“I was concerned,” she replied easily, leaning back and resting her weight on her free hand. Her back arched with the movement, her chest pushing up in the air. “You are the authority on medical matters. I thought it only appropriate to come to you.”

Suppressing a smirk, he took her hand in his, feeling the calluses and smooth spots under his fingertips. His gut twisted, heat flushing his skin. “What were you reading?” he asked, his accent peeking out as his throat thickened. 

“ _Little Women._ Lieutenant Uhura recommended it. I am not sure if I like it so much,” she said, meeting his gaze. Her curls slid across the line of her shoulder and neck; he could fairly hear the sound of hair against skin, and it quivered through his body. 

“You look warm, Doctor.” Her knee pressed into his thigh, a hint, an invitation. 

He watched as her body flushed, the green darkening, the skin under his fingers heating up. “As do you, Lieutenant. It’s much cooler in my office,” he said, words long and slow. “If you’d like to continue in there.”

Smiling widely, she sat up and curled her free arm around his neck, scooting in close. “Certainly, if you think it is best,” she murmured, mouth close to his. 

Their breathing fell into tandem once more; smirking, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, wet and warm and slick. She tasted sweet and smoky, like her perfume, intoxicating as pheromones, but his mind remained remarkably clear. He catalogued the sounds in her throat as his hand traced the line of her torso, his tongue tasting the inside of her bottom lip. The hard ache in his gut began to melt and soothe, pleasure sanding down his hard edges.

With a wet _pop_ , he pulled back, finding his skin flushed and her leg hitched over his hip. “I do,” he said huskily. 

She laughed brightly as she slipped off the exam table, and swayed her way into his office. With all the nerves alive across his body, he followed. 

*

The next day, McCoy sent Jim a private comm. 

_Consider Sickbay christened. And don’t get your dick anywhere near my goddamn exam tables, no one knows where it’s been except for me, and I don’t like any of it._

*


End file.
